


Likes of Me

by HandwithQuill



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-27
Updated: 2014-04-27
Packaged: 2018-01-20 23:37:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1529969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HandwithQuill/pseuds/HandwithQuill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Un-beta-ed Random RumBelle pining in a modern Au setting typed while half asleep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Likes of Me

Her foot bounced erratically as she chewed on her fingernail. Her eyes followed the seemingly slow moving second hand of the clock mounted above the door. Her bag sat on the floor by her desk, already packed. 

Belle ignored the looks Ruby was shooting her as the hands on the clock reached two-thirty. She grabbed her book bag, slinging it over her shoulders as she darted out of the classroom. Glad she wore jeans and sneakers that day, she ran down the stairs and out the school doors.

She didn’t stop until she was able to flop onto the picnic tables outside of Granny’s Dinner. She waited a couple of seconds to catch her breath, before digging into her bag and pulling out a book and notebook. Opening each to a random page, she tried to make it look like she was studying the page intently while keeping her attention on the shop down the road.

It wasn’t too soon before the proprietor of the shop exited, locked the door and started to stroll towards her. His suite was back as usual, but his tie was pink today. His hands were in his leather gloves, one wrapped around the handle of his cane. The spring day was neither warm or cool, so he was with out an overcoat, but did have on a pair of rounded sunglasses against the sun. As he got closer, she could see that his shirt was dark, either purple or blue, as was his pocket square. The shirt had dots on it in a rainbow of colors.

She darted her eyes down to the book, pencil moving on the paper as he approached. She tried to ignore him as his shadow fell over the table.

“I don’t think that is the answer your teacher is looking for, Miss French.” 

She looked down and saw that she had only drawn random circles on the page. She blushed, but smiled up at him.

“Probably.” A quick glance at the textbook showed that she had grabbed her math book instead of one of her English books. “I’m just reviewing for a test next week. I don’t really need to write anything down.”

“Well, good luck, then.” He smiled, nodded, and walked into the dinner. Belle waited until the door shut behind him and she could see him at the counter before she let her head fall to the table. Then she lifted her head and let it fall a few more times.

'Why him?' she wondered. Why of all the people in town did she get a crush on Mr. Gold? When she had mentioned it to her friends, they had all looked at her strange. She had tried to explain the attraction, that he was intelligent and was one of the few people in town that would talk about books with her. Ruby didn't believe her, kept trying to get her to admit she had a thing for Gaston. Belle shuttered at the idea even now. Ashley's look of horror was actually funny. The blonde had looked around the room as if expecting the man to materialize out of thin air. The only comfort she got was from Ariel and Mary Margret. They were sympathetic even if they didn't understand the attraction.

She lifted her head quickly as the door opened.

“Good day, Mr. Gold.” she told him as he walked past, a cup of coffee in his hand. She watched him go back to his shop. She sighed as she put away her books, knowing that now that he got his two-thirty coffee, he won’t leave the pawnshop until he closes at eight that night. She knew she should stop indulging her crush. ‘Because,’ she thought, glancing back one last time before making her way to the Game of Thorns, 'There's no way some like Mr. Gold would ever be interested in the likes of me'

** ** ** 

Gold closed his eyes as he leaned back against the door, closing it, the bell jingling above him. He gave a sigh and resisted the urge to look out the windows and made his way to the back of the shop as quickly as he could. He placed the coffee cup on the corner of his desk as he dropped into the chair behind it. He let out a sigh and rubbed his eyes. When he looked back up he stared at the cup.

He had promised himself he wouldn’t go today.

But as it approached two-thirty, he found himself antsy, picking up random things before putting them down. He was sure he would have been pacing if his leg would have allowed it. When he found himself standing in front of the windows, staring down the street, he knew he was too weak-willed not to go. So with a resigned sigh, he left the shop. 

He was glad of his sunglasses as he didn’t have to hide where his eyes were looking. 

She was sitting at one of the picnic tables. The sun was illuminating the red highlights in her hair. Her attention on the books spread out before her, pencil moving along as she read. 

He smirked as he got closer and saw that she was only making circles on the notebook paper. 

“I don’t think that is the answer your teacher is looking for, Miss French.” he commented. 

She blushed as she looked up at him, her blue eye shinning with her smile.

“Probably.” she told him. “I’m just reviewing for a test next week. I don’t really need to write anything down.” 

He nodded and smiled, slightly dismayed that she was studying mathematics instead of one of her literature course. He thought she might like it just as much as he did when he engaged her in conversation about the books she was reading. 

“Well, good luck, then.” He made his way into the dinner quickly and ordered a cup of coffee to go, so it didn’t seem to strange for him to have come this way. 

As he left and he passed her table again, she called out to him. 

“Good day, Mr. Gold.” 

He knew that the wistful sound to it was only his imagination. 

He rested his face in his hands. 

He was a perverted old man. 

The girl was much too young, still a year away from being legal, not that that would make it any better! But ever since the day last year when he went to Game of Thorns to collect a loan payment and found her at the front counter with a stack of books, he’d been intrigued. He knew the title she was reading couldn’t have been for school. When he asked about it, her eyes lit up. They spent quite a few minutes talking about it, until her father came out of the back and saw him. Since then, whenever he would run into her around town, his day would be just a little better.

This couldn’t continue and he vowed, ignoring the fact that he made this vow everyday this week, that he wouldn’t pretend to go get coffee when she was studying outside of Granny’s tomorrow.

‘Beside,’ he thought, ‘even if age weren’t problem, there’s no way someone like Miss French would ever be interested in the likes of me.’


End file.
